


What They Don't Know

by slbunnies



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-06-06 06:08:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6742183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slbunnies/pseuds/slbunnies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter has been living alone with his problems for a very long time and he's used to them by now. But what happens when he finally gets the help he needs from someone he never thought would be there for him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was still dark when Harry abruptly awoke from a terrifying nightmare drenched in cold sweat and panting heavily. His hand was clutched tightly to the scar on his forehead, the ultimate cause of his anguish. Quickly he swept the room with his eyes, frightened at the thought of what might be lurking in the shadowed spaces of his room. Hedwig was not present; hunting mice usually left him lacking her company for a few nights.

Experiencing her absences quite often, Harry was aware that it could still be some time before she was due back. Wiping his forehead of the sweat that had been beading slowly down from his hairline he shuddered as a cool breeze blew through the open window. He reached over to the bedside table and scrambled for his glasses to put on. The hairs on the back of his neck were prickling.

Earlier that night the creak of a floorboard had had him almost jumping out of his skin. Paranoia simply seemed to overwhelm him during the night; it was as if the darkness was consuming his judgement. He did realize, though, that this fear of his was mainly due to the fact that light and dark were commonly used representations of good and evil. Although Harry always did prefer night to day, excluding the part where he had night terrors, which certainly made him wonder about himself. 

Of course the floorboard had just been one of the Dursley's making their nightly trip to the bathroom, which the sound of running water just seconds later proved. All because of one simple dream the terror he experienced made him feel like a child again, curled in his cupboard, not completely understanding how he could become so immensely afraid - red slit eyes glaring at him directly and a sneer on a face he could definitely say only appeared in the most horrid of any of his nightmares. Then the customary flash of green.

Voldemort.

He understood that he should have continued with his Occlumency lessons. Accomplishing the assimilation of concentrating his magic to block intruders from his mind should have been at the top of his ‘To Do’ list. The Dark Lord had been starring in his sleep for quite a long time now and his training, if he had stuck to it, with the Potion’s Master ‘of all things dark and dank’ Snape would have rectified it. 

Unfortunately, he had an astounding streak of stubbornness, as did his Professor, and things between them would not have evolved pleasantly. Previous examples of their relationship warranted Harry’s claim. 

But now it was beginning to get serious. Lacking sufficient sleep most nights was really getting to him, effecting his nerves, especially when he still had to deal with the ridiculous antics of his relatives. Not that they ever acted like they were related to him in any way of course. Their acquaintanceship was virtually that of slavery. 

Harry had never been able to sleep well at night. Even when he was a child a good nights rest had managed to elude him. As he got older it had progressively spiralled downhill; he awoke more frequently clinging to the blankets in fear. The amount of sleep he got only decreased. Harry was starting to worry that maybe he was becoming an insomniac. 

Of course there were sleeping aids he could take, both muggle and wizard alike, but these always made him feel sluggish and less responsive the next day. This was not a feeling one desired while being hunted by a dark wizard and mostly while also having to put up with the Dursley's in the morning. 

He was used to the lack of sleep, it was a familiar feeling, but it was taking a toll on both his body and mind. It was getting much harder to hide the dark circles under his eyes.

Desperately, in an effort to find relief from his jarring nightmares, he had mentioned them to Hermione, resident bookworm, and she had volunteered her intelligence without hesitation. She was one of his best friends after all and one of the brightest people he'd ever met, excluding prominent figures such as Dumbledore and Snape. 

She had managed to research a few remedies for his sleeping malady, but nothing had proved to be permanently useful as of yet. Which hadn’t stopped Hermione of course. 

They had found one functional potion for his situation, but he would have been required to brew himself a large batch once a month, as it only kept for so long. And asking Snape to prepare the concoction was out of the question. The fact that it was extremely difficult to make wasn’t the only problem. It was one of many. 

The ingredients, for instance, were hard to come by, or rather they were expensive and some were also quite rare. Secondly, you had to begin preparing the ingredients on the eve of a quarter moon exactly sixteen days before the actual potion could be made. The potion itself had two steps of brewing to be done six days apart specifically at the setting of the sun. 

Harry's eyes had glazed over as he had read the words Hermione had wrote in her letter explaining the Potion's procedure in explicit detail. Not only was it complicated to make, but it had to be drank simultaneously with a minor sleeping draught precisely two minutes past four o’clock every afternoon for the effects to happen when he needed them to and not randomly in the middle of the day. Surely one could call it demanding. 

The good thing was that if he took it regularly he would sleep for exactly seven hours every night. But undesirably, these forced sleeps were unnatural and would make him feel completely unbalanced the next day; more alert and rested, but unbalanced nonetheless. 

Harry turned his brain off as another shock wave of stabbing pain ran through his scar. An itch was beginning to irritate it. Voldemort was feeling pretty vindictive - that had been the third time it had hurt since he'd awoken. The first had been before he had even gone to bed. It was getting really hard to masturbate himself to sleep with all the mental intrusions. 

Sighing, he pushed the covers aside and made the journey from his bed to the desk only paces away. Not only did the top drawer contain the parchment and quill he would need to write Dumbledore a letter but also a bottle of muggle aspirin. 

Promptly having sent Dobby, who would do anything he asked of him, with his vault key and a note he had decided to exchange some of his Gringott's money before leaving the Wizarding world, reluctant as he was about living with his relatives again. He figured that the muggle money would come in handy in case of any emergencies. After the first week of summer, the excruciating headaches were painful enough that even though he considered it just short of an emergency he had made a trip to the pharmacy to acquire a pain reliever anyway. 

Short, ashen blonde and dressed in one of the stores bright orange uniforms, the lady behind the counter had smiled at him widely as he approached. She had explained to him the various medications and what they could do to help his headaches. He bought what she had recommended most avidly and when he had taken them that night they had barely even numbed the pain. But it was better than nothing, seeing as he was, until the end of July, still not allowed to use magic outside of school. He was counting the days. 

Having unscrewed the cap, he unceremoniously dumped a couple into his hand and, without water, choked them down before sitting in the chair before him to relax. What he wouldn’t do for one of Madame Pomfrey’s headache remedies. ‘Dumbledore does not know how to fix this,’ Harry thought for the hundredth time since summer had started. 

He pondered the reason why he was still writing to the old wizard about his nightmares. The Headmaster didn’t really have any proper solutions for him. It was always, 'sit tight, we're doing what we can, keep out of sight'. 

Harry was tired of the lull in his life that the summer season brought. At least when he was at Hogwarts there was an ample amount of distractions. Sighing, he pulled the paper and quill from his drawer anyway. He dipped the quill into a bottle of dark ink and began to write out his last nightmare. 

He lit the candle that sat on the corner of his desk and waited patiently for enough wax to melt for use of sealing his letter. The dark plum color was customary for sending letters to the Order of the Phoenix. As he wandlessly muttered the spell that would keep the letter from being opened if intercepted, he stamped it quickly before the wax could turn gold by using the present he had acquired from Ginny, the youngest of his favorite red-headed family. 

It was a large metal stamp engraved with his initials overlapping a lightning bolt. Not very original, but it had been a birthday present. It seemed to been a useful gift, seeing as he had had no other way of actually stamping his letters properly before, unless you counted the ring he wore on his index finger. That massive silver ring was the first sign of his rebellion.

Harry speculated briefly, imagining what Dumbledore’s reaction might have been to receiving the very first letter he had sent displaying the skull emblem. Lately he was becoming very caustic toward the old man. But, maybe his cynical ways were just catching up with him. How could he not become so cynical? When he looked back at the life he had lead and all the things that had occurred, he questioned how he had managed to stay sane all the while. 

Sweat still clung to his skin causing his pyjamas to stick uncomfortably. A quick trip to the bathroom was in order. Normally he didn’t venture out into the hallway this early in the night. Not that half past one in the morning was early of course. It was just that usually the Dursley's were making trips to the kitchen or the loo until roughly around three or four o’clock. Which left Harry a window of a few hours until his aunt Petunia awoke every morning to begin making Uncle Vernon his breakfast. 

Pulling himself out of the chair and stopping about an inch away from the door he listened for the natural nightly noises of his relatives sleeping. All seemed safe so he cautiously proceeded into the hallway. On tiptoe, he rushed silently into the bathroom and closed the door carefully. Harry snatched a towel from the rack and put it across the bottom of the door, blocking any light from escaping into the hallway to disturb his relatives. It was better to be safe than sorry. 

Another towel was quickly in his hands as he turned the hot water tap on full blast and pushed the cloth underneath the gush of water that rushed out. The sound of his Uncle Vernon snoring was usually the cover up for his nightly escapades and he was thankful for that loud noise, because otherwise the running water would have awoken at least one of the three. 

Sneaking around at night made the wizard wary. He didn’t think he could handle it if he were ever caught. The Dursley's believed that whatever he did was unnecessary and simply nonsense. He’d probably wind up turning his Aunt and Uncle into some farm animal to match the pig his cousin already was. 

With the wet towel in one hand Harry flicked the light off, put the other towel back to it’s proper place, and held his breath as he listened once again for any of the unusual sounds the three were likely to make. Luckily he heard nothing. He crept forward through the night and back into his bedroom. 

The journeys he did make were usually short and to the point. He never wasted any time doing things that didn’t need being done. Having already learned what actions would get him into trouble and how not to get caught, Harry was already aware that the number one thing was to not waste time. He used the wet cloth to wipe the sweat from his body, shivering slightly from the cold air tingling against his damp skin. He should really shut his window.


	2. Chapter 2

Mindlessly he put everything away that had been sitting on his desk. He didn't want to think. Harry was tired of thinking. It only led to distressing ideas, such as how could he face one of his peers on the battlefield and be expected to kill them? 

He knew the war would eventually come down to that very thing happening. It really was a common fact that at least half of the Slytherin’s were tied into becoming part of Voldemort’s circle. Even though Malfoy was his school rival and many of the Slytherin’s, including the blonde, had tried to make the past six years of his life at Hogwarts a living hell, he didn’t think he could manage having to wipe them off the face of the planet. He couldn’t simply point his wand at them and then ‘poof’- no more existence. 

Life was so precious to Harry, seeing as he had lost so many people that had been dear to him, and killing someone had scared him more than realizing he might die himself. He hadn’t wanted to take a life. It had just happened. And now his nightmares were plagued with the horror of it all. 

The Ministry of Magic did not know about this incident - neither did Dumbledore for that matter. Rodolphus Lestrange had attacked him in the muggle world and he hadn't told a single soul about the incident. It seemed ironic that he had disposed of Bellatrix’s husband in such a fashion. 

Even as he had struggled for his life Harry had not used his wand. He had known that any magic he produced would be traced, and the hassle of trying to explain to the Ministry that he was forced to defend his life, yet again, would have been too much. Thanks to Umbridge and the daily ridicule of the Prophet, they still believed him to be a spoilt child looking for attention. Voldemort was still considered to be dead even though he was still very much alive.

His hands had so easily found their way around the Death Eater’s neck and he had choked the life out of the man before he could even comprehend what he was doing. It was a good thing that Lestrange had been cocky enough to not just murder him outright with a spell sniper style. The crazed wizard had actually attempted to kill him with a knife, but perhaps he was acting on desperation, or there was even the possibility the wizard had been lacking his wand. 

Harry had forced himself to dispose of the body, but having no idea how to properly do so had just dragged him into a dumpster nearby. 

He saw blood on his hands, even though there hadn’t been any in actuality. His conscience was reminding him of his sin and it was making him feel slightly insane. Needing a break from the thoughts that had come even though he had tried to keep his mind empty, Harry rifled through the second drawer in his desk for the small bottle of fire whiskey Hagrid had sent him home with. The contents of the bottle were nearly empty but there was enough for a couple more swigs. 

Downing the last of the alcohol he jumped, startled out of his thoughts by an unknown owl swooping into his room through his window. Hooting happily at Harry, the small tawny owl flew around the room once before landing at the desk with his leg outstretched, intending for him to take the letter attached. 

He untied it, curious of who sent it and of what they wanted to correspond with him about. The owl took flight immediately after and was soon out of sight. As he flipped the letter over the gold stamp imbued with magic opened of it’s own accord. 

 

Harry Potter,

Due to recent unforeseen circumstances you will be securely removed from your home. This will occur the moment you finish reading this letter. Please, I ask that you listen to all instructions from those who have come to retrieve you, as it is imperative to your safety. You will accompany them back to Headquarters immediately. The password is 'Prancing Faeries'. 

Headmaster Dumbledore

 

When he dropped the letter onto his desk it rapidly engulfed itself in flames leaving only minute scorch marks in its place. He rushed to the door of his room and flung it wide open as soon as he heard the obvious knocking at the front door. Praying that it wouldn’t awaken the Dursley’s, Harry practically flew down the stairs. Suddenly, it burst open, emitting a loud bang that had his Uncle quickly awake and bellowing profanities. 

Severus Snape walked abruptly into the house, Mad-Eye Moody grumpily limping behind him, and Remus trailing thereafter. Harry was glad that Dumbledore had at least the sense to have sent one person he liked and trusted. 

“You needn’t have blown the door apart, Alastor,” Remus scolded, waving his arms around in a hilarious fashion, obviously a little distraught. Snape rolled his eyes. 

“What’s done is done,” Snape said, “Now we have the task of acquiring Mr. Potter. Which shouldn’t be too difficult as he is standing exactly in front of us.”

“Hello Professors,” Harry mumbled, smiling crookedly at Remus, “I’m so glad to be out of here.” 

“Harry, you know only one of us is technically a Professor now…” Remus replied but was quickly cut off by Moody before he could say anything else. 

“Enough chit-chat, boy,” Moody growled, “Where are your things? We need to leave as soon as possible.” 

“I think I'm supposed to ask for a password?” Harry questioned, unsure what the password was actually for. Maybe he was supposed to give them the password, but none of them had asked one of him yet. 

He saw Snape grimace before the man gritted out, 'It's 'Prancing Faeries',” clearly annoyed at having to utter such nonsense. Harry nodded as it was correct. 

“Be right back. My stuff is upstairs.”

As Harry proceeded up the stairs to grab his belongings his Uncle burst from the room adjacent, purple and looking more bloated than usual. 

“Where do you think you’re going, boy?”

He had no need to answer as a spell hit Vernon in the back of his head, stiffening him completely in a full body bind as he dropped to the floor with a resounding thud. 

“There’s no time to waste. Quickly go and gather your belongings,” Snape directed, standing beside his Uncle and staring down at the man with distaste. “It'll wear off in a while. Don't worry about his well-being,” the man added when he noticed Harry standing there starring.

Having no reason to argue with his Potion's Professor he did as he was told. Before Harry knew it they were in the living room, together in a circle, each touching a part of the Portkey the three men had brought with them; a broken stapler. Counting down from ten they activated it and were pulled to their destination. 

Having assumed he would be standing in the foyer of Grimmauld Place, Harry was more than slightly unnerved when they arrived in surroundings unknown to him. It was quite dark and his eyes were not yet adjusted to the lack of light. From what he could discern out of the chill in the air and the dank feeling was that they were below ground, in what was possibly a dungeon. 

Hearing one of his companions move he soon saw the room and its contents when the torches on the wall ignited in a powerful burst of magical flame. The room looked very similar to one of his Professor’s classrooms. 

Shelves and cabinets lined three of the walls, the fourth taken up by a long, dark stained wooden table that was uncluttered except for a large black cauldron. Jars of random fluids, solids, and colors occupied the many shelves – things you simply wondered about; whether or not they were body parts or plant life was something you couldn’t tell. It could have been either. His eyes swept the room once more in the few seconds before he was being led through the now distinguishable oak door. 

He stayed behind the three men as they started walking up a set of stairs and into a more brightly lit space that was filled with rows upon rows of books. It seemed to be a library. He thought about how Hermione would have loved the place. A few comfy looking chairs, dark blue and most likely antique, were set near the solitary large window that dominated the room, a lone table located between them. 

Following Remus’ lead, he sat in one of these chairs, patiently waiting to see if he would be getting more of an explanation of his removal from the Dursley's. Moody made his excuses and left for what was apparently more important business. Harry didn't care much either way.


	3. Chapter 3

Severus Snape was not an amiable man even at the best of times. No one could deny his many faults – the constant acerbic insults he so effortlessly spewed, his many idiosyncrasies, the intentional provoking of those he believed to be beneath him, which seemed to be anyone and everyone, and his constantly cold demeanor. He was a man who had no care for anyone’s feelings, who believed no one was special. 

In fact it was assumed that he was sadistic and unemotional for the fun of it. Most commonly, the response to his scathing personality was avoidance. He preferred it that way. 

Harry was well aware of all of those rather obvious facts having personally experienced them during his school years at Hogwarts. What surprised the Gryffindor was that Snape was being tolerant of him. More than that actually. Yet to rebuke him of his actions or even call him any names, the Potion’s Master was acting unusually calm about the entire situation, more so even than Remus. 

It was all quite an interesting change in the man’s persona. But, perhaps it was only a change of Harry’s judgement. Harry was instantly suspicious and on guard. 

Sharply observing that the two men’s only intentions were of producing enough tea for everyone, Harry didn’t yet have his hopes up that he would be given any explanations. 

Especially since after receiving said tea, the only conversations they seemed to embark upon namely revolved around tea and other substances you could have with tea. He shook his head in disbelief that his supposed superiors could all still manage to argue about such trivial things. Was the rivalry he had with Malfoy like that? Gods, he hoped not. 

After drinking a few cups of tea, Harry was once again surprised when he found his most hated Professor doling out shots of whiskey. Even Harry had been provided with one. And he wasn't the only one shocked by the gesture, if Remus' over-exaggerated features were anything to go by. So, he continued to wait patiently in silence, a single eyebrow raised as he stared at the two men before him, his mind whirling about trying to make sense of recent events. 

Just as everyone was starting to get comfortable, Dumbledore suddenly apparated into the room, bringing along a generous amount of dust, enough to coat the furniture in the room and it’s three occupants.

Coughing, while trying to wipe his glasses clean with a dust-covered shirt, Harry was momentarily stunned as Dumbledore conjured up another chair. It looked cushier than their own seats and stood out from the other chairs drastically, a bright red contrast to the muted blue ones that they occupied. 

The Headmaster produced his own tea tray, nonchalantly, and unaware of his interruption, complete with sandwiches and crumpets. With one extra companion the more crucial conversation finally began. 

“Harry, m’boy,” Dumbledore said sprightly as he levitated the tea tray around the room, “How are you doing?” 

“Uh... just fine, sir. Only very curious,” Harry replied as he continued to try and remove the dust from himself, ignoring the tray of tea in favour of his own spiked libation. 

“Curiosity is quite healthy, I’m glad to hear it.” Bringing his wand out with a flourish Dumbledore spelled everyone clean. 

“There are a few things I would like to discuss as I’m sure each of you have your own questions.” His eyes twinkled madly as he took a sip of his drink. “But before that, Harry, I believe you have a letter for me.” 

Harry stared back with owlish eyes, blinking in confusion. He didn’t have to wait long for an explanation though as Dumbledore caught on to his bewilderment. 

“Would you like a crumpet?” Harry swiftly grabbed one from the tray, his eyes never leaving the Headmaster’s face. Of course, the old wizard was the master of diversions.

“I’m sure it would be less tedious for you to simply explain what was within this letter instead of taking the time to read it myself.” Harry looked slightly perplexed.

“Well… sir, I had another dream. Voldemort was discussing with that rat Wormtail about vacationing at Malfoy Manor. There was the usual torture and lunacy. But I also noted that there were many pure-bloods being tortured as well. And then I saw what I think was meant to be a private conversation between Lucius Malfoy and the snake eyed git. They were discussing something that seemed fairly important, and it sounded as if Malfoy's son might be involved.” It took a lot for Harry not to simply rant and rave about his dreams, to not swear up and down about what a bloody bastard Wormtail was or how sick Voldemort made him.

“Thank you, Harry, it is a horrible burden that you must bare these dreams,” the elder wizard said solemnly. “I am aware of Voldemort's descent into madness already, though it may come as quite a shock for some people to learn that he isn’t just after muggles and half-blooded magical folk.” Dumbledore’s eyes darted quickly and almost unnoticed to Snape’s. 

“Albus, we all know how much of a sadistic bastard Voldemort is and that he is capable of many such things. However, what we are unaware of is the reasoning behind your insistence upon retrieving Mr. Potter from his home.” Snape set his saucer on the quaint little table beside his chair, patiently awaiting the Headmaster’s explanation, knowing they were likely to only receive half-answers and partial truths from the old wizard. That was just the way things were.

Snape had been taken aback by the actuality of Mr. Potter being permitted to participate in their discussions. In the midst of Albus Dumbledore even the impossible could happen. 

“Well, as you yourself know Severus, Voldemort has been working on disassembling the Dursley’s house defences. It is impossible of course, but the fact remains that even their knowing Harry’s location is a danger. They could lure him out or use his relatives to get in,” Dumbledore paused to let the information sink into the young Gryffindor’s head, “unfortunately, finding a suitable place were he may be safe is the upsetting matter.”

Harry shifted in his seat, nervous as all three adults fixed their eyes specifically on him. It felt as if they were scrutinizing every little thing about him. He bet many witches or wizards would have quickly broke under such a gaze from these particularly distinguished wizards. 

“What about the Weasley's?” Harry ventured to ask. “I could go stay with them.”

Dumbledore gravely shook his head, “That would not be possible Harry, m’boy. As much as I would like to send you to the Weasley´s it is still too dangerous.” He put up his hand sensing Harry was about to interrupt. “Yes, you would indeed be in good care, of that we all know is true, but Voldemort knows of your acquaintanceship with their family and it could be disastrous. He could easily find out your whereabouts and the defence we could put up in such short time would not be enough. You would be putting their entire family in danger.”

“He hates you,” Snape said quietly. Harry looked quickly to his Professor, shocked to find the man rigidly staring straight into his eyes. There was a fierce determination there, something he had never noticed before. “He is focusing all of his attention on capturing you. His inner circle has been given direct orders to tear down that ward around the Dursley’s when before there were more important missions that they were assigned to. Even I myself have been told to poison you - though it would apparently ruin my position with Albus here.” 

“That is very true. The only reason Professor Snape was even able to be a part in bringing you here tonight is because he informed Voldemort of your removal and that you were to be brought to the secret location of the Order of the Phoenix.” Dumbledore looked at Remus, who had yet to say anything and was patiently contemplating it all. “Would you be able to elaborate to Mr. Potter the lengths Tom Riddle has gone to in attempting to capture him?”

Remus sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, turning away momentarily before gazing fully at the young man in front of him. 

“The Dark Lord has posted spies on practically every person you have had contact with over a period of time. Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Colin Creevey… almost every person in Gryffindor tower has a Death Eater trailing and keeping tabs on them. The entire Weasley family, including those out of the country like Bill and Charlie, are being tailed. Even I have had to deal with a couple of incidents. It is a very dire situation.”

“The ministry has been infiltrated to the point where an approximation of at least forty percent are under Voldemort’s influence,” Snape added.

“This is all Order business, isn’t it?” Asked Harry, aware that he was now privy to information that only a select few were known to receive. “Why are you actually telling me all of this?”

“It is important, we realize, that you understand the full scope of your circumstances. It will prevent many situations and mishaps from occurring. We wish to avoid these. We will not let the past become the present. And, now that you are of age in the Wizarding world it would be foolish for us to not provide you with such information befitting your stature.” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as he suddenly found an answer to their earlier dilemma. 

“Seeing as there will be another Order meeting in the coming up week that you shall be attending, if you so wish, I believe it would be best if you stayed here at this residence for at least a little while.” 

“Albus! What makes you think you can simply invite people to stay as a guest in my home without my consent?” Snape questioned, a snarl edging it's way into his voice, staring at Harry as if he resembled something spawned from the depths of hell. Harry glared back at him and then courageously turned to Dumbledore with protestations of his own. 

“I think it would be a fine idea. No one would think to look for you here, at Snape Manor, and it already has many protections from prying eyes that would be detrimental for wherever you stayed. I don’t see any reason why you should have any objections seeing as it will only be temporary,” Dumbledore smartly replied, knowing neither would outright refuse him. 

“I suppose I could manage Potter for one week,” Snape drawled, “as long as a certain rule-breaking Gryffindor understands whom here is in charge, that is.” 

Harry rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, slumping in his chair to proclaim his defiance.

“Wonderful!” Dumbledore got up from his chair and flicked his wand, causing the plushy red piece to quickly disappear. “I believe we are done here for now, gentlemen. Remus, would you be so kind as to meet me at headquarters, there are a few things I must still discuss with you.” And with that said he vanished, leaving the three men awkwardly sitting in silence once more. 

 

“Well, Harry,” Remus sighed as he rose from his chair, “I guess that means you’ll be under the care of Severus for a time yet. I dearly wish I could have taken you in myself, but I suppose that might have to wait just a while longer.” Harry jumped from his chair and rushed toward his replacement Godfather. Remus had been there for him through some tough times and even with the loss of Sirius the werewolf had been a constant presence in Harry’s life. He would miss him; his arms found their way around the man and they hugged their goodbyes. 

“Why do you have to go right away?” Harry pleaded. “Can’t you just stay a little while longer?”

“I’m afraid not, Harry. I do need to talk to Albus about a few things before I’m off again,” the werewolf replied. “I promise I’ll see you as soon as I can though.”

“Bye, Moony.” Harry smiled as they parted. 

“See you, you little rascal,” the man replied, messing Harry’s hair up with a hand before giving a jaunty wave and apparating from the room. 

“So touching, Mr. Potter. Must we with the theatrics? I’ll soon vomit if it continues,” Snape commented, a slight smirk gracing his features. 

“No, Professor, I’m fairly certain I will portray only feelings of boredom, discontent, and frustration from this point on, which you so happily feed upon. Don’t become so distraught quite yet,” Harry retorted, snorting at the disbelief on the Potions Master’s face. 

“Very well then, Potter. Let me direct you through the rest of the house so that I can dissuade you from entering some of the rooms that you, no doubt, will have the urge to enter and snoop in against my wishes anyway. Not that you’ll heed much of anything I say, will you, Potter?” 

“Perhaps not what you’ll say, but I’ll definitely heed you, sir.” Harry flashed one of his larger smiles at the man and strode out of the room and into the hall.

“I’m sure you will,” Snape said dryly as Harry exited the room, following the Gryffindor with something akin to dismay.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry stopped at the end of the hallway, unsure of the direction he should take as Snape had yet to give an indication of where to head. The man was coming up behind him, striding with his usual purpose, his long legs carrying him the distance within seconds. Harry made to move so that he wouldn't be in the way and found himself doing exactly what he'd tried to avoid, Snape stepping into him as he'd been directing himself around his standing form at the same time. 

“Mr. Potter, watch where you are going,” he snapped, gritting his teeth together at being jarred so suddenly into the teen. Harry couldn't move, shocked to find the man's front melded against his own back, and he jerked his head as indication that he'd heard him speak. Snape sighed, unable to silence his annoyance, and without much thought gripped the boy by the waist, half lifting and half nudging him out of the way. 

“This way, Mr. Potter,” he told him, moving forward and taking the stairs to the right that led up to the second floor of his house. It wasn't an overly large abode, but one could get confused if they didn't know where they were going. Snape hoped that Potter was paying at least a bit of attention to where he was being led.

Harry forced his feet to follow, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, feeling a bit unnerved about having to be in the company of his Professor in such close quarters. At least they had a whole house – it looked bigger than the Dursley's place so far – to keep away from each other in. Well, that was Harry's plan anyway. 

“This will be your bedroom. Your personal items have already been deposited within.” Snape stopped in front of a door, nearly identical to every other one that Harry wasn't entirely sure how he was going to discern it from the rest of the rooms, and let him briefly peer inside before he was striding off again. Harry barely noticed and had to hurry to catch up. They stopped again at the end of the hall.

“Where's your room?” Harry asked, curious if they were even roomed on the same floor, or wing, or whatever it was called in big mansion's such as Snape's. 

Snape's mouth twisted into a partial grimace, like it had done so of it's own accord, and he gestured back down the hall from whence they came. 

“It is the first room. I only tell you in case of an emergency. You are not to enter my room under any other circumstance, do you understand, Mr. Potter?” Harry acquiesced with a firm nod, it wasn't as if he'd ever want to, and Snape continued, “Here is where you will find the closest facilities to your bedroom. There is another set above, as well as below, in the exact same spot. It makes it simple to find.”

Harry tried to keep up as Snape swept through the rest of his house, excluding the dungeons which were restricted completely to him, pointing out various places he wasn't allowed access, which seemed to be half the place, and eventually ended in the dining area. 

“That is all. I usually dine around the same time each day and the house-elves provide meals here. Breakfast is at seven, lunch at noon, and dinner promptly at six. I'll expect to see you for every meal. If you miss one you will go hungry until the next. I will not have your presence disrupting my household,” Snape explained, seating himself at the head of the large, oval table in the center of the room, “Tea, however, may be had at any time, and you will usually find crumpets or scones provided.”

He almost jumped when he heard the distinct popping noise of a house-elf appearing. The elf bowed, his head nearly sweeping the floor, and courteously asked what his master required before leaving in the same abrupt manner. Harry wasn't sure how he was going to know what time it was as he had no watch to figure it out. He wondered if he would be able to talk one of the house-elves into reminding him.

“Sit, Potter. There are a few things yet that we should discuss,” Snape ordered, looking imposing to Harry even while simply sitting and drinking tea. He pulled the nearest chair out and plopped onto it, jarring his elbow against the edge of the table and grimacing at the pain. He gritted his teeth for a second and then gave Snape his attention once more.

“For instance, your school work, Mr. Potter, have you finished it?”

“I haven't even started it,” Harry replied honestly. He hadn't had the chance to while staying at the Dursley's as they kept all of his school things under lock and key. They hadn't wanted him studying magic under their roof for fear of him blowing it up with some spell or another and leaving it crumbled over their corpses. 

Snape glared at him. Harry was used to it and stared him down. The man wouldn't be able to intimidate him any more. He was different now. Snape didn't scare him.

“Then I suggest you get it started,” Snape said, his tone dry, “And then we can move on to more pressing matters, like the Dark Lord for instance."

Harry nodded, figuring it was easy to just agree instead of causing an argument. There was also the fact that he could care less if Snape knew about the Dursley's and their treatment of him. It wasn't as if the man would care either.

“You will only be here a week, Mr. Potter, and I expect you to use that time wisely. You are no longer a child and shouldn't need to be coddled.”

He thought, as he took up his cup and sipped at his plain tea, that Snape sure did like the sound of his own voice. The man continued to go on about his expectations but Harry had tuned him out long ago. It was always the same thing with him anyway. Harry should do this and that, he was a disappointment, useless, ignorant, a waste of Snape's efforts... he'd heard it all before.

Snape finally ran out of things he wanted to say. He was getting tired any how, having been up most of the night creating Lupin's Wolfsbane Potion. The full moon was only a few days away and he had fallen behind on his Potion's production thanks to the Dark Lord and his needs. For an evil overlord he sure was needy.

He sighed, noticing the blank look on Potter's face that indicated the boy wasn't listening to him any longer, and finished off his tea. He set the cup back in it's saucer with a clank and Potter seemed to snap out of his near trance-like state. Snape curled his lip into a sneer as he watched him start to fidget around in his chair.

“You may leave, Mr. Potter. We are done here.”

Harry stayed seated, pondering whether or not he should ask the man about continuing his Occlumency lessons. He had been presented with an opportunity to do so and he figured it was as good a time as any to ask. 

“Sir...?” he said hesitantly.

“Leave, Mr. Potter. There will be more time to discuss whatever you please at a later time. Do not make me tell you again.”

Snape watched Potter huff, looking even more like the moody teenager he was as he pushed himself from his chair and stalked out of the room. He rubbed at his temples. He just wanted Potter to leave so he wouldn't have to deal with the swarm of thoughts that usually occurred with his presence. Because he wasn't just thinking of Potter, no – seeing Potter made him think of everything all at once.


End file.
